


Upon an Ocean of Doubt

by incogneato



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Facials, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 14:31:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6011314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incogneato/pseuds/incogneato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: While getting a blowjob, Poe pulls out at the last minute and comes on Finn's face.<br/>Finn drops straight into an anxiety attack due to prior experiences, Poe feels lower than dirt, h/c and angst for everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Upon an Ocean of Doubt

FN-2187 has been bad, and that's why he deserves to get it on his face, but he hates it and it's been a long time since he's been bad so he isn't used to it anymore. It makes him jerk back in fear, surprise and fear, but he knows instantly that's wrong because he's supposed to stay still and take it. So now he's been bad twice in a row, and he's not sure what the protocol is for what happens next because he's never been bad twice before, but whatever it is it's going to hurt.

He starts shaking, he can't help it, and that's probably bad too. He's just bad bad bad through and through, and they're going to take him to one of those rooms where the walls are soundproofed and the doors can only be opened from the outside and he doesn't want to go. He wraps his arms around himself and presses hard, trying to stop his body from shaking, trying to make it keep still and be good.

Sir scrambles back and away from him, probably to go get his stun blaster. FN-2187 curls in on himself to try to protect his front, his stomach and his throat and all the soft parts that will hurt the most when he gets stunned, but he wants to be brave and face his punishment like a man because he deserves it. 

When Sir lays his hands on him though, they're empty and they're soft, not even hitting him with an open palm. FN-2187 doesn't understand why and he's terrified to look up to check because he doesn't want to see what Sir has waiting for him.

"Finn, Finn, what's wrong?" Sir says, running his empty soft hands over FN-2187's scalp and down his neck and over his shoulders and FN-2187 shivers some more. He doesn't like trick questions because he never knows what his superiors want him to answer. The other stormtroopers are better at things like these, knowing exactly what to say and how to behave. FN-2187 is bad, and he doesn't know how to fix it so he stops fucking up.

"What's wrong?" Sir repeats, pressing for an answer, still stroking his hands over FN-2187 and making it hard to think.

"I am," FN-2187 replies. He thinks it's what Sir wants to hear, and also it's the truth. There is something wrong with him. He's bad. The proof is drying on his face, the seminal fluid that had been hot coming out of Sir's cock now completely cooled to room temperature and starting to feel hard, a strange crusting sensation over the skin of his brow bone and left cheek, trailing down to his jaw and his neck. This is what happens to bad soldiers.

"No, Finn, no," Sir moans, and FN-2187 flinches. He's gotten it wrong yet again. His punishment is going to be so severe. Maybe he'll even have to go through reconditioning again. 

"Please, sir, I'm sorry," FN-2187 says. He clutches at his own arms desperately, clawing at the skin, rocking back and forth, willing himself to keep it together and be good like he knows he should be. In horror, he realizes that tears are starting to gather at the corners of his eyes. He can't afford to cry—tears are an indulgent weakness and he can't believe that his traitorous body is doing this to him, not now. "I'm so sorry," he repeats, "I'll do whatever it takes to rectify the situation, please, sir, just give me a chance to prove my loyalty to the cause." His breathing has become erratic, so he attempts to regulate it with the exercises they have been taught, but the more he thinks about controlling his breathing the harder it becomes to get any air into his lungs, and all he can think about is the drying mess on his face, mixing with his tears, and his vision goes grey and then black at the edges, tunnels in until it becomes hard to see, and Sir is pulling him into his arms, and he doesn't understand, he wants so badly to be good but he can't, he can't...

* * *

Poe holds Finn close as he rocks and cries, pulling in ragged breaths and babbling panicked promises to be good. 

He curses himself for springing a new thing on Finn without telling him first. It's not exactly hard to guess what brought this on, since Finn had flinched back and started apologizing pretty much the exact instant Poe's come had landed on his skin. He had only been trying to do the right thing it wasn't the first time Finn had gone down on him, but they had always moved on to other activities well before Poe was likely to finish, but this time Finn had brought him so close that Poe didn't want to come in his mouth without warning. He'd done what he thought was best: he'd pulled out, but he was farther gone than he thought and the suction of Finn's lips as he pulled off him with a pop was too much pleasure to bear, and then he'd shot his load all over Finn's face. 

And now this.

Poe doesn't know what to do other than hold Finn and encourage him to breathe with him, their chests rising and falling in sync. He has no idea why Finn had such an intense negative reaction to the accidental facial, and beyond making a mental note to never do it again he has no clue how to help. 

Finn does eventually calm down, though it feels like it takes an eternity. Both of Poe's legs have gone numb from how he's kneeling on the floor but he'd rather lose them than let go of Finn for a stretch. The inconsolable sobbing subsides into wet snuffles and hiccups, and Poe makes various comforting noises, hushing him and telling him everything is alright.

"Poe?" Finn says after a while, his voice thin and watery.

Poe has never been more relieved to not be called 'sir.' "There you are, buddy," he says. "It's nice to have you back."

"I'm sorry—" Finn begins, but Poe cuts him off.

"Let's not start that again, okay? Just focus on taking deep breaths. Do you need anything? A glass of water?" Without thinking, Poe starts using the hem of his own shirt to mop up Finn's face, wiping away the tears and the remnants of his come.

Finn screws up his face and says no.

Poe's legs are pretty much completely asleep now, so he awkwardly half-skips, half-crawls to where Finn's jacket is draped across the back of the one chair they have in their shared quarters, and retrieves it for him. It always seems to comfort him. 

He wraps Finn up in the weather-beaten leather and watches with satisfaction as it makes Finn visibly relax. He strokes a hand through Finn's hair, which he must have been doing for at least the past hour, but for the first time finally Finn is no longer trembling under his hand. "Can I ask what just happened?"

Finn swallows in a loud nervous gulp. He has one hand clenched into the jacket, holding it closed around himself and with his other hand he fumbles around. Poe quickly clasps it in his own two hands, rubbing Finn's knuckles with his thumbs. 

"You're okay, it's okay, you don't have to say if you don't want to," Poe reassures him.

"They used to do that thing to us," Finn blurts out all at once.

Poe doesn't have to ask what thing, or who they are.

"When we did something wrong. Sometimes they'd do it in front of other stormtroopers, so everyone would see and learn from our mistakes. Sometimes that was it and it was okay—kind of gross and embarrassing, but nothing else. But sometimes it was just the first step and then afterwards, before we even got a chance to clean up, they'd take us to the real part of the punishment and either make us do stuff for them or give us extra work or take away rations or, you know, other things."

Poe does not in fact know what other things Finn considers normal punishment, and he doesn't want to. A kind of icy sickness passes through his guts, like cold fingers gripping his bowels and squeezing. To think that that had happened to Finn—and then _he had done that_ to Finn—

"Oh no," he says, yanking his hands away from Finn, trying to put some distance between them, and then realizing that meant he wasn't providing Finn with any comfort anymore. He hurriedly comes back and lays his hands over Finn's shoulders, the jacket a safe buffer between them, and that's better. Something to keep Finn safe from him. 

Finn watches him with wide, dark eyes.

"I am so sorry that that happened to you," Poe says, putting every bit of sincerity in his body into his voice. "I am so sorry that _I_ did that to you. I didn't mean to. It was just an accident. It'll never happen again, I promise you."

"Okay," Finn agrees.

Poe doesn't know what he was expecting. Just okay? That's it? He doesn't want Finn to be angry at him, exactly, but in a way he sort of does. He deserves for Finn to be angry at him, but Finn isn't, and there's a relief in that. "I'm sorry," he says, a dark echo of when Finn couldn't stop himself from apologizing.

"It's okay," Finn says again. "You didn't do it on purpose. I believe you."

And that's the way Finn always is; he wholeheartedly believes Poe, always. And Poe had broken that gift of trust that Finn is always bestowing upon him without any reserve. He concentrates very, very hard on not being sick, because that would worry Finn and Finn doesn't need any more things to be worried about.

"What they did to you was wrong," Poe says. It's suddenly very important to him to make sure that Finn understands this. "Anything having to do with sex is private, and people should only do things with your permission. It should never be used for public humiliation, unless—" Poe stops himself from going down a complicated road of explaining consensual kinks and how sometimes people deliberately want to get come all over their face. It's too much of a thorny issue and he can't picture any of that information being helpful rather than confusing at the moment. He settles for saying, "They were wrong to do that to you, and I want to shoot every last one of them who ever hurt you." Including himself, a little bit.

"I know," Finn says quietly. 

Poe knows that the responsible thing to do now is to ask Finn what else they did as punishment, what else could set Finn off into a panicked litany of pleas, so he can avoid accidentally doing any more of them in the future. But Finn looks exhausted, and Poe selfishly doesn't think he can take hearing more of it. 

He strips off his shirt, soaked wet with Finn's tears and soiled with evidence of what he had done, and he thinks he's probably going to throw it out rather than wash it. Maybe burn it. "Bedtime?" he asks Finn. It's pretty early for sleep but neither of them will be much good for anything else tonight. 

Finn clambers into the two beds they've pushed together to make one large enough for sharing, looking relieved to have escaped a longer conversation about this for now. Poe can't blame him. He knows they'll have to talk about it sooner or later, but for now they can just be glad that Finn has escaped the First Order and that they are here together, that they have each other. 

Poe puts on a clean shirt so that his bare skin won't have to press all over Finn, afraid to overwhelm him after what's just happened, and crawls into bed next to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Written to fill [this prompt](https://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/2821.html?thread=4665861#cmt4665861) at the TFA kink meme.


End file.
